Tyger, Tyger
by letscallitink
Summary: AU. Shere Khan never had anything against Man or anyone else before he was burnt, so what if he was never burnt at all? It was Kaa who killed the man and Shere Khan who found the cub.
1. What Kaa Did

**I never really cared for The Jungle Book as I was growing up, but the 2016 version enchanted me, so here I am, despite being behind on all my other work. Let's have some fun.**

 **The One and Only Disclaimer: It's older than me. It surely ain't mine.**

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 _Tyger Tyger, burning bright,_

 _In the forests of the night;_

 _What immortal hand or eye,_

 _Could frame thy fearful symmetry?_

 _In what distant deeps or skies._

 _Burnt the fire of thine eyes?_

 _On what wings dare he aspire?_

 _What the hand, dare seize the fire?_

The Tyger – William Blake

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Shere Khan had never been on good terms with Kaa. Then again, _no one_ ever had. She was manipulative and treacherous, not abiding by the same rules that other predators did. Snakes weren't all that bad, in general, especially not to Shere Khan, but Kaa's size made her a menace. That seemed to happen in this particular jungle – creatures growing to unusual size. The elephants were larger than they should have been, and Shere Khan would know. He had seen normal elephants, and they weren't as big as the ones here, not nearly. Less than a day's journey north from Peace Rock, an orangutan by the name of Louie was twice the size of the others and still growing. In a few years, he would be a monster. Kaa was already one, and her size made her greedy. She ate far more than her fair share and did so by unfair means.

All this, Shere Khan knew and was disgusted by, but he had never expected Kaa to be so selfishly gluttonous that she would eat a _man_.

There was no blood and no sign of a bite, but all the bones were broken and the skin was discolored. Shere Khan knew Kaa's work when he saw it, but that wasn't necessary for him to know she had done it. He could _hear_ her only a few paces away, slithering her overgrown body along the underbrush. She had killed the man and left him for later, confident that no one would touch her kill, and rightly so. No one would dare take from what Kaa had killed. They knew better. _Shere Khan_ knew better. And he wouldn't want to eat the flesh of Man anyway, not unless he were absolutely starving, and maybe not even then. It was against the higher laws, ones that were steady and unchanging and transcended nature's fickle ways. Kaa broke both. Shere Khan _kept_ both.

It was so incredibly selfish of her to do this. Kaa knew as well as anyone else that killing Man was dangerous. When one man fell, his pack often followed to find out why. Men were not animals, and they were not _like_ animals. They did not leave things be. Men had died in the jungle before, and his pack always followed, and the pack always killed. Maybe it was vengeance, or perhaps it was a display of dominance, or maybe they wanted to be sure that whatever culled from them would not do so again. Shere Khan did not know why. He only knew that it happened, and everyone else knew it too. That Kaa would kill a man like this without thinking of how much trouble she could bring down on all their heads… well. It wasn't all that surprising. Kaa was foul and she did foul things. It was just selfish beyond belief. Shere Khan would have to put a warning out, just in case men followed this time. He hoped not.

Huffing out a snort of revulsion, Shere Khan turned away from the broken corpse. Leaving Kaa to her own blind greed was the only option here. He didn't want to be there when she came back for her meal. She might decide to eat him, too, and Shere Khan didn't want to test his ability to stand up to her. Her mouth was bigger than his, after all, and her fangs longer.

Before he had even taken three strides, an unnaturally hot wind rolled through the chill of the night and pushed up against Shere Khan's fur, ruffling his stripes. His nose wrinkled at the strange odor it carried, like black rock under the heavy heat of summer, but even stranger still. Shere Khan licked his whiskers. It was probably a Man thing, he surmised, and of course Kaa would not care for it. Kaa only liked food. Shere Khan, though, was too curious for his own good. It would probably get him into trouble one day. In fact, he was surprised that it hadn't already.

He sniffed the air, following the scent. He couldn't imagine that Kaa would take her kill too far from where she had found it if she didn't have to. She may have been greedy, but she was also lazy. She taxed herself as little as possible for the most food that could be had. No, whatever the Man-thing was, it had to be very close, and– oh.

 _Oh._

He had never _seen_ it before.

The cave ahead of him flickered and glowed hotly with orange light that was just as brilliant as his own fur. It was the Red Flower; it had to be. Shere Khan had never seen it himself, but he had heard of it and seen the distant glow of the Man-place, and this had to be it. The heat and the light and the color… yes. Oh, he had always wanted to see it, and wasn't this perfect? It was in a cave, and cave was just rock, and everyone knew that the Red Flower couldn't eat the rock. Here, he could watch it burn until it died without worry of it spreading.

It was a good thing that the man was not here. If Shere Khan had seen the cave before Kaa had made her kill, he would have approached out of curiosity and found himself in a cave with a man and a Red Flower. The Flower itself, Shere Khan was not terribly afraid of, but under the control of a man… that would be different. _Man_ was different.

Shere Khan entered the cave slowly, cautious of the man perhaps having a packmate. Men had packs, didn't they? Or, did they not? Shere Khan didn't know, and didn't really care, only so long as they didn't bother him. Shere Khan was curious, not stupid. He may have been interested in Man, but he knew better than to stick his snout where it was likely to get bitten.

The warmth of the cave was delightful. Nights could get cold here, especially in the winter, when the days didn't have as much time to warm the ground. Shere Khan, finally confident that there were no other men around, eased himself onto his belly in front of the Red Flower and stretched so that it could warm him. It was beautiful, he thought, in the most dangerous of ways. Light, warmth, and destruction. That was what animals always said. Well, there would be no destruction that night. Only light and warmth. Shere Khan grinned, staring into the flickering Flower even as its heat made him feel drowsy. He would never get this chance again, so he was going to enjoy it while he could. Tonight would sate his curiosity of the Red Flower and bring him the best rest he had ever had. Shere Khan could already feel the warmth seeping into his bones. He groaned happily, sheathing and unsheathing his claws as he reveled in his find. Hot, bright light made his eyes glow almost as much as his insides.

"Could ge' _used_ t'this," Shere Khan grumbled happily. He was warm. The stone he was sleeping on was warm. Warmth like this only came on winter nights if you had a mate, which Shere Khan didn't. This, though… he imagined that this was almost just as good as having a mate. Almost.

The sight of the Red Flower was enticing, but not enough to fend off the heady lethargy that had made Shere Khan melt. Warm and satisfied, the tiger fell asleep.

 **oooOOOooo**

The first thing that Shere Khan felt was how much less the warmth was than it had been when he went to sleep, meaning that the Flower had probably died sometime in the night. Red Flowers never lived long if they didn't feed much and often. The second thing Shere Khan felt was a light, barely-there pressure trailing along his side…

Shere Khan opened one golden eye. The Red Flower was glowing, but only barely. Even if he brought it some dry grass to eat, it wouldn't regain its strength. The smell of its death filled his nose, but he didn't mind. Its death didn't smell all that different from its life, and he wanted to keep the scent for as long as possible.

But what was that fluttering against his hind leg…?

Shere Khan lifted his head to look at whatever was rubbing his fur the wrong way, and he had never been so surprised in his life.

"Ey!" he exclaimed, jerking his foot away from the tiny… _creature_ that had been pawing at his fur. "Whaddaya think you're doin'?"

The tiny creature didn't answer. It simply turned its soft, dark eyes to him and stared.

 _Man-cub_ , Shere Khan realized with a start, taking in the sight of a foreign creature standing on two stubby, thin legs. The pelt was dark, much darker than a deer, but not black, not like the fur on the top of its round head. The legs were wrapped in– in– in _something_ red, but the upper body was bare and unprotected. The little thing had deft, curling digits, but no claws. No shell, no armor, no teeth. It reminded Shere Khan of a newly hatched bird, but at least a baby bird had a beak.

It murmured at him, but not in any language he recognized. It might have just been baby babble. Some cubs did that. Wolf cubs did. Tiger cubs… well, he didn't know.

"Ey, now, li'l one, where's your dam?" Shere Khan asked, drawing himself closer to the cub. It toddled forward on its red-wrapped legs and reached out its tiny front paw to bat softly at his muzzle. Shere Khan's black lips twitched under the attention, allowing a flash of sharp teeth to show, but the man-cub didn't even flinch. The little thing was _fearless_. "Either you're jus' stupid, or you're a tough li'l bugger."

Dark eyes blinked. Golden eyes stared back.

"Guess that was your sire Kaa made a meal ou' of," Shere Khan mused, batting the cub with his tail. The cub squealed happily and lurched for the tail. Shere Khan twitched it out of the way and swayed it back and forth, charmed by the man-cub's delight. It wasn't so different from any other cub, was it? "Probably the best thing. Not for you, but the rest of us. 'E was in the jungle, an' Man only make trouble 'ere. But you can't make any trouble, can you? A cub like you, barely walkin'."

As if it understood, the man-cub plopped down onto its rear end, having caught the tail and was now settling down to happily chew on the black tip. Shere Khan growled, flicking his tail away from the drooling, gummy mouth, but the man-cub wasn't frightened. It simply grinned, showing the faintest hints of small, flat teeth, and went after his tail again. Shere Khan huffed.

"An' wha'am I s'posed to do with you, eh?"

 **oooOOOooo**

Bagheera had heard from the peacock, who heard from a rhino, who heard from a crocodile, who heard from a bird, that a man had been killed in the jungle, and that it had been Kaa's doing. It wasn't as much of a surprise as it should have been. Kaa was a menace, and that wouldn't change until the monster of a snake died (soon, hopefully, but it was very likely that her size would give her enough security to live well beyond what was natural for a snake). Bagheera only worried about other men coming after their dead packmate. And yet, a whole season had passed without any further news and not a single flicker of activity from the Man Village, which most likely meant that any danger of retaliation had passed. It was a great relief.

Another season passed, and then another. A year. Shere Khan had shifted his hunting grounds further south, or so was the word by the vine, leaving the title of King temporarily unclaimed, although authority seemed to automatically shift to Bagheera and Akela. Bagheera couldn't say whether or not he was sorry to see the tiger go. He liked Shere Khan in the general sense. He liked his company. It was nice to have another Big Cat around. But Shere Khan was unrelentingly curious, even of things he ought to have steered clear of, and Bagheera had been waiting for trouble to come of it. It hadn't, yet, but Bagheera still waited, wondering if Shere Khan would bring trouble when he returned. He surely _would_ return. Surely. Shere Khan had been King of the Jungle for too long to simply walk away forever.

Another year passed, still too soon to expect Shere Khan's return, but then word came of a cub under Shere Khan's protection, and that made Bagheera reevaluate his expectations. Most tigers weren't monogamous, but that was… not here. This jungle had law that was kept and a hierarchy that was respected, which Bagheera knew was highly unusual. It was abnormal, and so was Shere Khan and nearly every other animal in this jungle. The tiger was well old enough to have taken a mate before, and the fact that he hadn't _could_ have simply been because tigers were so rare here, but it spoke more of Shere Khan's fastidious nature. If Shere Khan had found a mate, Bagheera knew it was likely that Shere Khan had made it a permanent arrangement, especially if the rumor of a cub was true.

Oh, _mercy_. Shere Khan with a mate and a cub. What was the jungle coming to?

As strange as the concept was, Bagheera didn't dwell on it much. The rumors still came, mostly from the birds, but they never said anything different from what they had said before, so once Bagheera was used to the idea, he stopped giving it too much thought. Shere Khan had a cub. Alright, then. Until something more substantial could be said about it, it wasn't any of Bagheera's business, was it? If he came across Shere Khan, he would congratulate the tiger on the blessing. Otherwise, it was of no concern, and it wouldn't be until… well, until the cub was grown, which was an entirely different matter. But, still, that was a good ways off, and wouldn't be any of Bagheera's business until Shere Khan returned and brought his family with him, _if_ he ever did so. Who knew? Maybe, with a mate and a cub, Shere Khan would stay where he was.

Hmm. Well, despite Shere Khan's resolve to get himself into trouble, Bagheera would rather have the tiger back here, on home ground. There weren't all that many big predators in these woods. There were the wolves, and Bagheera himself, and Kaa, that _demon_ of a snake, but that was all, really. And so few predators could cause problems. The crocodiles didn't count – they didn't actively hunt. They just waited for something to jump into their mouths. But since Shere Khan had left, Bagheera had noticed the spike in the deer population, which would be fine for awhile, but it would eventually make things difficult.

Eventually. Not now. For now, everything was just fine, and nothing would be changing anytime soon.

Of course not.

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 **Since I write fanfiction mainly as a writing exercise, I would very much appreciate any and all feedback you can give. Thank you for reading.**


	2. Go South, Go South

**Note: Some of you mentioned being startled by Shere Khan's strong accent – worry not. It's all part of my devious plan. Note 2: I don't know if they're going to make a sequel to the 2016 Jungle Book, but since that's a long ways off if they do, I'm simply working with what was provided and extra material from the books. If any future sequel(s) use the books differently and make this more non-canon than it already is… oopsy.**

 **[Edited 10/18/16]**

 **And away we go…**

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Shere Khan stood at the crossing between the jungle and the Man Village. The man-cub sat on his back, gripping his fur with tiny paws like a monkey's. They watched the hot glow of the Red Flower rise up from the village, writhing and smoking as it went, not seeming nearly as friendly or as welcoming as the small bloom Shere Khan had slept by the previous night. There were noises and smells unfamiliar to him, punctuated by wispy shadows of alien shapes.

"I can't say I know this is where you're from, but it's the nearest Man-place I know," said the tiger, watching the village with a sense of trepidation. He did not want to be near it. He did not want to be near it at all. In fact, this was as close as he ever wanted to get. He couldn't imagine a reason grave enough to draw nearer.

The pup did not answer him, preferring instead to hug his tiny arms around the thick ruff of fur on Shere Khan's broad neck. The tiger shook his head as if to ward off a fly, but the man-cub wasn't bothered at all. In fact, he only held tighter.

Sighing heavily, Shere Khan stretched himself out onto the ground and leaned to one side, prompting the man-cub to ungracefully making an unwilling dismount. The boy made a startled, unhappy gurgle at suddenly being unseated, displeased with being on the hard ground for the first time in many miles. Shere Khan didn't like the sound, but he paid no mind, quickly heaving himself back onto all fours so that the cub couldn't climb onto his back again.

The man-cub whined, tugging a handful of orange fur to get the tiger's attention.

"Eh, now, none of that," Shere Khan said, leaning down and giving the man-cub a nudge in the direction of the Man-place. "Go on, go on; go back t'your pack or wha'ever it is you Men 'ave."

The boy stumbled on his undeveloped legs, but immediately gravitated back towards the tiger as soon as he regained his balance. Shere Khan huffed and gave the man-cub a firmer push. Again, the man-cub stumbled and then quickly recovered once more, returning to where he was not wanted.

"I said _no_!" Shere Khan exclaimed, showing his teeth. "Go on, get! You're gonna gemme caught!"

With that and a very stern glare, Shere Khan pressed the whole of his head against the boy's chest and gave a very determined shove. The man-cub staggered backwards and fell onto his rump. There was a moment of shock from the boy, of wide-eyed disbelief, before that tiny face crinkled into a miserable grimace and an even more miserable sound poured from his mouth.

Shere Khan cringed.

Many animals do not cry. Or, at least, they do not cry _tears_ , not as Men do. But there is a sound that many creatures make, and though that sound is not the same in all creatures, it _is_ crying, and it is recognizable, even if you have never heard it before. Shere Khan had certainly never seen or heard a Man cry, but tigers are one of those animals that do cry, and he recognized it in the man-cub.

With his ears flat against his head and hackles standing up from his neck all the way down his back, Shere Khan set one broad paw on the man-cub's head, trying to keep his claws from extending and accidently hurting the boy.

" _Hey_ ," Shere Khan muttered harshly, recoiling from the cub's pathetic cries even as he attempted to sooth the child. "Hush! Stop that. Enough."

The cries rose in volume to a keening noise that wavered and was only broken by the harsh, hiccupping intakes of breath. Had they been in the jungle, it would have roused every animal for a good mile or so and brought more than a few running to investigate. But they weren't in the jungle. They were… oh, _no_ , they were right on the edge of the Man Village.

 _Oh_ , Shere Khan thought. The cries of a man-cub would bring animals running, yes, but what about the men? Would they hear him? Would they be drawn to the sound of one of their own in distress? _Of course they will._

"They'll come for you," Shere Khan told the cub, giving the tiny creature another half-hearted pat. "Just… stay."

The glow of the Red Flower flared and flickered with shadows, drawing Shere Khan's eyes back to the Man Village. There was movement and noise, the unnatural sound of Man voices, and more than usual. They had heard the cub.

 _Good_ , Shere Khan thought curtly, giving himself one brusque nod of affirmation before quickly backing away from the cub. The weak cries immediately rose into screams that would have rivaled any bird that Shere Khan had ever heard. Shere Khan moved faster and the screams doubled in volume and distress. _Oh, good word, nothing that's not dying ought to be able to scream like that._

Now, for those of you who aren't familiar with tigers, know this – they aren't known for their paternal instincts. Male tigers are generally uninvolved with the lives of their cubs, and even the lives of their mates. But _that jungle_ was strange and unnatural and full of equally strange and unnatural animals. Shere Khan was no exception, and he felt the fatherly urges that tigers are _rarely_ beset by. Were the opportunity offered, he would have a mate and cubs of his own, but there were no such opportunities. But there _was_ a lost man-cub, and the poor pup didn't really seem all that different from a tiger cub. So, when an unusually sentimental animal heard the frightened screams of the man-cub…

Shere Khan stopped in his tracks even as he had been poised to run. His muscles tensed in position, waiting for the send-off that would catapult him through the jungle, but it never came. Shere Khan dragged a paw over his face, growling angrily at his own weakness.

"I'm gonna regret this, I _swear_ it," Shere Khan grumbled, turning back towards the man-cub.

The cub was already running after Shere Khan on his weak, stubby legs, tears streaming down his face and down onto his bare chest. Shere Khan made it to the man-cub in two great bounds.

"Nathoo!" cried a voice from the Man Village. Not an animal's voice. " _Nathoo_!"

" _Up_!" Shere Khan ordered as he kneeled, nudging the man-cub onto his back. The cries were subsiding into hiccups, which did only good things for Shere Khan's ears, but there was no time to be grateful. The gates that guarded the Man Village were opening, and the light of the Red Flower spilled out hotly; _angrily_ , as if it knew what Shere Khan was doing. _Stealing_. "Hold on!"

Shere Khan ran and did not stop running until the sun came up.

But that, dear reader, all happened a very long time ago.

 **oooOOOooo**

Bagheera didn't worry without reason, but when there _was_ a reason, he worried very much. And the lasting dry season worried him endlessly. It wasn't the dry season itself that worried him, of course. The dry season came without fail, every year, and it was always a nuisance, but this year was especially bad. Worth worrying about, certainly. The wolf pack had a litter of young pups, barely walking, who would not survive with so little water if the heat grew any more intense. Two were already sun-sick.

So, when Peace Rock was revealed and the Water Truce was called, Bagheera was relieved, but it also only served to prove to him how bad things had gotten. Water Truce hadn't been called since he was just a cub, and that dry season hadn't been as bad as this one.

Still. It was good for the jungle's inhabitants to gather, even if it was for such an unpleasant reason. They _made_ a pleasantness out of it. There would always be tension between predator and prey, but the Peace Rock always brought about a sense of camaraderie, even between natural enemies. It was something that Bagheera enjoyed immensely. The only thing missing, he thought, was… well, oddly enough, Shere Khan.

Bagheera may have only been a cub when the last Water Truce was called, but the same could be said for Shere Khan. They had played together. It didn't seem right for the tiger to be missing from their number now.

 _Where have you gone all this time, Shere Khan?_

With that thought, Bagheera finally approached the watering hole to take his own share. He startled a few deer (foolish creatures), and had to tell off a peacock for making a fuss over something trivial (a stick, was it?), but other than that, there was no trouble. He drank, he cooled his paws in the mud, and he did his best to ignore the cacophony of noise and squabbling that was the growing at Peace Rock as more animals flooded in.

Unfortunately, he didn't get to ignore it for long.

Raksha's pups, talking and walking but still very small, never ceased playing, even in the heavy heat. They romped through the mud, investigating new creatures they had never seen before and splashing each other to help cool off. They recognized Bagheera as a friend of the pack and approached without fear. They nipped happily at his heels, yipping and mock-fighting amongst his legs. Bagheera chuckled and gently batted at an especially brave one. The pup growled back at him with white baby teeth showing and amber eyes sparking.

"Bagheera!" the pup laughed, dodging the panther's light hits.

"Remember me, do you?" rumbled Bagheera, lowering his head closer to the pup. He was grey in color, not much darker than his mother, but darker by enough that it helped Rama's features shine through.

The pup, instead of answering, attacked Bagheera's ear. The needle-sharp puppy-teeth were barely even a pinch to the big cat – Bagheera didn't care. He felt the feeble tugs of mock fighting as the other pups joined in the game, playing ambush on his tail and ears. He let them do it, even going as far as to lie down so that they could reach him. One pup climbed over his back, struggling to find purchase in Bagheera's black pelt, and this led all of the other pups to try it for themselves. Of course.

Bagheera shut his eyes and let them play as they pleased. Treating pups kindly was always wise – they remembered it when they grew into strong hunters. Besides, the heat was making him drowsy, and since it was safe at Peace Rock… way not take advantage? Advantage being an afternoon nap, that is.

"Pups, why must you bother Good Bagheera? He's getting old, you know."

Bagheera lazily opened one eye to find a sleek, black wolf staring down at the pups with false disapproval. The sire of these particular pups, Bagheera knew. They may have been brown, for the most part, but they were obviously Raksha's, and this was Rama. Raksha's mate.

"Speak for yourself, Rama," Bagheera murmured. He was still hoping for that nap. "I haven't a grey hair on me, see? You, though, seem to be a bit silver about the muzzle."

Rama huffed at the offense, sitting next to the pup-covered black panther.

There was a companionable silence between them even as other animals talked without ceasing and the pups yelped and snarled at each other as they played their new game of who-can-walk-on-Bagheera's-back-for-the-longest-without-falling-off. The things that pups did to amuse themselves made Bagheera smile. His memories of being a cub were hazy and fading with age. He remembered his mother. He remembered his first Water Truce, where he had met and made tentative friends with a rambunctious Shere Khan. He remembered the flash flood that had made him an orphan. He remembered teaching himself to hunt. He remembered… more than he thought he remembered, apparently. Hm. How odd. He hadn't thought of it in such a long time.

"What's the matter, Bagheera?" Rama asked, nudging Bagheera's shoulder.

"Nothing," Bagheera answered. Suddenly, the brave runt of the litter slid down the slope of Bagheera's neck and fell off the panther's face. Bagheera blinked, and the startled pup blinked back.

"S-sorry," the pup said, and immediately scampered around towards Bagheera's elbow so that he could rejoin his litter-mates.

"The runt looks like you," Bagheera informed his friend jovially.

Rama snorted, not looking nearly so pleased as Bagheera did. "Pup's fool-headed."

"All pups are."

The wolf didn't respond. Bagheera stilled, breaths becoming shallow as he became aware that the dull roar of Peace Rock's gathering had fallen into a faint murmur. The pups played obliviously on his back, but Bagheera watched Rama, who had stood up and lifted his head to the sky, scenting the air, just as many of the other animals were doing. Bagheera looked up. The sun was shining, the heat was heavy, and nothing seemed to have changed, but the chirps of birds and buzzing of bugs peeled away into silence.

"What is it, Rama?" Bagheera asked softly. He anxiously kneaded his claws into the mud.

Rama shivered, muscles visibly shuddering under his pitch-black coat.

"Rain's coming."

 **oooOOOooo**

A deer shrieked right before its back was broken, quick and clean. Had it been healthy, it would not have been so easy to catch, but any predator could detect the sickness that radiated from the deer's bones. Animals only called it sickness. You, reader, would rightly call it cancer.

Shere Khan clamped his mouth around the buck's neck and hauled, dragging the deer back through the foliage. The deer hadn't given much of a chase, which would usually have disappointed the tiger, but not this time. The oppressive heat made hunting more of a chore and less of a chase. Less enjoyable by half, and it took pleasure away from eating a fresh kill.

Tail lashing irritably in wake of the heat, Shere Khan paused to rest. His whole massive body slumped down onto a bed of moss that was browning in the heat. He had grown much bigger and stronger in the recent years. He was one of the only predators in his territory and the pickings were easy, meaning he rarely worked hard for a meal, and he certainly never went hungry. A surplus of food and a lack of effort put into catching it did a very big tiger make.

The land of the Seeonee was considered to be the southernmost part of the jungle, but even farther south was a stretch of jungle so dense and so unforgiving that it had gone unnamed and unclaimed for as long as anybody could remember. It was there, in that southern stretch, where things had gotten the worst. There hadn't been much there in the first place, of course. It was a dark, dangerous place, uninviting and without any attracting factors. That, Shere Khan supposed, was why it had been so easy for him to move in and take advantage of the hunting grounds being unchecked and unchallenged. It was just him and the crocodiles competing for the lost creatures that wandered to far south, and the crocodiles were no competition. In fact, Shere Khan had even once eaten a crocodile. Thankfully, crocodiles are not loyal creatures, and they did not care that he had eaten one of their own.

It wasn't something he would be doing again if he could help it, though. He hadn't enjoyed the taste.

The heat of the dry season was tangibly thick, like a puff of hot breath bearing down on the jungle. It was at its worst in the south, where the rivers were turning to slurping mud, and the jungle's thick canopy was dried and receding, leaving the usually dark jungle to the mercy of an unrelenting sun. There hadn't been such a ruthless heat in years. Some of the crocodiles remembered a dry season like this, although Shere Khan wasn't old enough to say the same. It was worst, though, for the man-cub.

Shere Khan grunted, remembering why he had traveled so far just to catch a deer with failing health. He needed to get it back to Mowgli. His cub.

The intolerable heat had driven off most of the prey, which was an abundance of small game that found the dense stretch of southern jungle tolerable. There had been so many animals that Shere Khan hadn't even had to try to catch enough for himself and for Mowgli. But the heat peeled back the protective canopy and crisped the underbrush down to nothing, leaving no shelter for the animals, who all left. The crocodiles and the birds remained, but little else.

And that was why Shere Khan needed to bring this deer back. Mowgli was still waiting, back in their cave, probably wondering if he could manage to kill a small, youthful crocodile for food (he could, Shere Khan didn't doubt).

Shere Khan heaved back onto all fours, dragging his kill along with him, and continued on his journey home. _Not so far yet_ , Shere Khan thought. It would be faster going back, at least. He didn't like being away from Mowgli for too long. The man-cub was tough, Shere Khan had made sure of that, but he was still just a cub.

Distantly, from beyond the jungle's borders, a rumble rolled through the air like the growl of a tiger. Shere Khan dropped the deer and looked to the open sky, nostrils flaring. He opened his mouth.

Beyond the copper of deer's blood, Shere Khan could taste a storm.

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 **Originally, this whole story was just going to be a one-shot, but since it got such wonderful feedback, I thought I'd continue it. Thanks, everybody.**


	3. The Wave

**Note 1: I reposted the last chapter after editing a lazy mistake pointed out to me by** **Malchus-Fireheart** **. Thanks, sweetie. Note 2: I've been asked by several people about the spelling of 'tiger' as 'tyger'. This is** ** _not_** **a recurring typo. It is a reference to William Blake's poem, "The Tyger," which inspired this story. In more modern prints, especially children's books, it is edited as 'tiger' with an i, but I think that takes away from the distinctiveness of the poem.**

 **This chapter is a bit short because it's a transitional chapter and it didn't really fit in with anything else, but I hope you all like it anyways.**

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 _"_ _I dreamed I saw a great wave climbing over green lands and above hills. I stood upon the brink. It was utterly dark in the abyss before my feet. A light shone behind me, but I could not turn. I could only stand there, waiting."_

 _–_ _Eowyn, The Lord of the Rings_

 **ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Thunder rumbled, rolling through the thick air like a wave churning in the ocean. Already humid air grew thicker and sharper, electrified and tasting too hot to abide. Birds screamed and chattered, rushing from one tree to the next and then back again and again and _again_ , ready to dive. Frogs and lizards and rodents scurried to their holes, scrabbling their claws across dry, cracking bark that was just starting to wither with the sudden onset of wet air. Crocodiles groaned, rolling in mud, snapping at the heady air and testing for the first drops of much-awaited rain.

Mowgli stretched his arms out. He stood ankle-deep in mud, wiggling his bare toes and occasionally giving a gentle tug with each leg so that the top layer of mud wouldn't dry and make it too difficult to move. All the hairs on his body were prickling, making his skin crawl, as the first breath of the oncoming storm swept across the jungle and pressed hot-and-cold swirls into his skin.

The sky groaned with the weight of dark clouds, the first droplet landed, and Mowgli smiled.

 **oooOOOooo**

Raksha howled, calling the pack home. She had not joined the hunt that day, not with her pups still so dependent on her, but Rama was leading the pack and she wanted him _home_. Lightning had not struck, not yet, but it would. It would. She could taste it on the air and feel it in her strong legs. The air was _waiting_ for lightning.

"If rain is coming, is Water Truce over, Ami?" Grey whispered to her when they were all safely huddled inside their cave. He hoped that it wasn't over – he liked going there and playing with Bagheera.

"Not until Peace Rock is covered," she told him, but that meant, essentially, yes. Heavy rains were coming, and it wouldn't take long before the Rock was covered. Not long at all.

Rama, returned with enough food to hold them all over until the weather cleared, tucked himself next to Raksha and let the pups sleep between them while he rested his head against his mate's shoulder. The young wolves who were no longer pups but not yet adults shifted anxiously, having never felt the air turn so hostile before. The elders moaned, stretching and scraping their claws across the cave floor, trying to scratch the ache brought on by old wounds seizing under the weather's influence. At the cave's narrow entrance, Akela watched and waited while thunder drummed in the distance.

 **oooOOOooo**

Mud slurped at Mowgli's legs, catching him and pulling him down as he struggled against it, but it could not best him. He had been walking these rivers for almost as long as he _could_ walk, and they were no match for him. Besides – there wasn't much depth to the mud, and if he stepped quickly, he wouldn't sink any further than the upper curve of his ankles. It wasn't wet enough for that, not yet. In another hour, it would be, if the rain kept coming down as hard as it was. If Mowgli let his feet sink all the way down, his feet his solid earth when the mud was hardly more than halfway up his calves.

Mowgli trudged along, muscles straining against the pull of dense mud on his legs. It was easier, in some parts, to get down on all fours and pull himself forward. Fallen logs and jutting rocks were good leverage, but there weren't many of them on this stretch of water. The crocodiles frequented this river often enough, and they kept the waterway clear, especially when there wasn't any water. The crocodiles here were so large and so heavy that they could barely walk properly, so they preferred to slide along the mud. Rather than scrape their bellies on rocks and twigs, they kept their domain uncluttered. It was easier for them, but much less convenient for Mowgli.

Water was starting to trickle sluggishly down the once-dry riverbed, and Mowgli frowned at the weak flow that was making streaks through the green scum that had collected on the muddy surface. There should have been more. It was raining so hard that he could barely see ten strides ahead, so where was all the water? The river should have been at a steady rush by now.

A crocodile growled as Mowgli passed, slapping her tail threateningly against the mud, daring him to come within reach of her massive jaws. Mowgli cautiously gave her a wide berth, wishing for Shere Khan's presence. All of the crocodiles were rightly afraid of the tiger, but there was no telling what some of the less friendly ones might dare to try while Shere Khan was away. Mowgli was proud of being smart enough and strong enough to make his own way, but he missed his abba's protection.

He wanted to hiss back at her. He didn't do it, but he curled his lip a little bit, just so that she could see his teeth. She chuckled, a scratchy, unpleasant sound, and began to heave her body upstream, in the direction he just came from.

"Stupid hatchling," she hissed, chuckling raspy as she went, but Mowgli ignored her.

There was a rumbling noise in the distance, but it was only thunder, of course.

Lightning finally cracked the sky open, shrieking angrily as it dove to strike a tree. The tree, browned and elderly, sizzled dangerously, still dry from the terrible dry season, but the rain protected it from catching fire, if only by a little.

The rain then began to pour in earnest, as if the first lightning strike had been its signal to race to the earth.

Rain pushed down on the jungle, breaking the trees that had died in the heat and pressuring the living ones to bend and groan. The dry, cracked earth choked on it and could not soak it in. Water pooled in the dips and then overflowed into the flats and rose up and up and after. The water was still slow to move in the river, but it was steadily rising, and soon, Mowgli was wading. He waited for it to start to flow and push against him, but it didn't, and he was grateful. The mud and high water were making things difficult; he didn't need to be battling against a strong current, as well.

Again, Mowgli slipped, struggled to right himself, and wished for Shere Khan in his frustration.

Shere Khan had never left Mowgli alone for so long. Mowgli would have liked to have gone with him, but he knew he would only slow the tiger down. He was pretty fast himself, and strong and tough and determined, but not enough to keep up with a tiger. Maybe when he grew up, if he worked very hard, he would be strong enough and fast enough. But he was still very young, and he would have to be patient.

Patience is rarely an attribute of the young. But that was alright, for the moment. The cave that Mowgli called home was just around the next bend, and he would be there soon.

 **oooOOOooo**

Shere Khan was trapped in a tree, which, admittedly, was not the safest place to be. He had dragged his kill up with him for fear that it would be washed away. Not because he was traveling over the river, but because the river was _overflowing_. It wasn't so bad, but it was bad enough that Shere Khan would rather chance being in a tree during a lightning storm than try swimming. He only hoped that Mowgli was at home, in their cave, which ought to be high and dry, even in this mess.

Of course, though, hope was probably too much to rely on. Shere Khan knew that Mowgli was just like him and that the man-cub would never stay in one place if he could manage to get away. He could only imagine what the boy was getting up to while unsupervised. If any of the crocodiles had taken a snap at him, _oh_ , Shere Khan would tear them to pieces.

Crocodiles, when in groups, could be savage, but they thought a great deal of themselves. They were, above all, pompous lizards. It dignity to deal with crocodiles – they demanded it, as if they were royalty. Shere Khan, once the King of the Jungle, had never cared how anyone acted towards or how he himself acted towards them, as long as his authority was respected. Crocodiles, however, took jungle hierarchy to a whole different level, and Shere Khan had changed himself in order to protect Mowgli. He acted differently, even spoke differently, so that they would respect him and he didn't have to constantly get into fights with them. Admittedly, it wasn't a bad change – Shere Khan felt more kingly now than he had when he was really a king, and that might come in handy.

Maybe… if he ever went home… they would see him differently. Not just a troublemaker who happened to be King because of his size and strength, but as someone who actually deserved the title. Perhaps.

It was true. He had only been King because he was stronger than the others. Truly, it ought to have been Bagheera who held the title. Bagheera was far more dignified; far more concerned with the lives of others. Shere Khan had never been those things.

Now, though?

Maybe.

"Maybe," Shere Khan told himself, "after it stops _raining_."

 **oooOOOooo**

Trees that had died and fallen in the extreme heat groaned as water built up against them, pressuring their bodies to crack and give. They blocked the river firmly, damming the flow from moving forward, but they were weak and the rain was coming down so harshly and the water was rising and rising and _pushing_ –

Something at the very base of the dam _cracked_.

 **oooOOOooo**

It was barely anything at first. Just the lightest push of a current starting to flow. What sounded like thunder was rumbling loudly in the distance. Mowgli hardly noticed it and did not care at all, for he was nearly home safely. The river could rage for all he cared, as long as he was in his cave while it happened.

But then it _did_ happen.

Mowgli stood with water up to his chest, watching in frozen horror as a wave so large that it cast a shadow towered over the shores. It was carrying massive, ancient trees and breaking others as it roared and rushed mercilessly towards him. And Mowgli stared, mouth open in a silent cry, and in his terror, he _could not_ will his legs to move.

The wave struck him.

 **oooOOOooo**

"Ami! Ami, _help_!"

"No! Grey!"

" _Ami!_ "

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 **Okay… that was fun. Just a reminder: I write fanfiction mainly as writing practice, so I appreciate any and all feedback.**


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